Chapter 2813 Return To East Gate Market

Tan Shuangxi and Zhang Laicai departed Daya Village before dawn—not because of any urgent business. The villagers were simply too hospitable. If they didn't leave early, nine times out of ten they'd be detained for another meal and pressed to share more "Northern Expedition Notes." Being wined and dined like celebrities was pleasant enough, but both men felt uneasy about it. Though "relatives may yet grieve while others already sing" is the ordinary way of human existence, feasting and making merry in the village still felt somewhat heartless.

So they agreed to slip away in the early morning. After leaving Daya Village, they stopped at one final household. Business concluded, by the time they emerged from that village, the sun had already begun its westward descent. Tan Shuangxi had no watch; judging by its height, he estimated the time at around three or four o'clock.

"Let's part ways here," Tan Shuangxi said at a crossroads. "Go find your lover."

"Already saw her. Why would I go again?" Zhang Laicai laughed. "I'm heading home too. The house needs tidying up."

"Shouldn't you settle down and start a family? You can't just keep drifting, staying a bachelor and chasing yellow tickets!" Tan Shuangxi advised. Zhang Laicai was an immigrant with only one son in the family.

"Better worry about yourself first." Zhang Laicai laughed. "You're several years older than me! Besides, why marry? I already have a son. A casual companion suits me better—both sides happy, no strings attached."

Tan Shuangxi knew further talk was useless. The two parted at a nearby station.

He had originally been eager to complete the task and get home quickly. But now that he had finished those thorny missions one by one, his mind relaxed, and the desire to return home no longer felt so pressing.

If he wanted to go somewhere for amusement—whether Maniao or Bairen—both offered bustling streets filled with all manner of novel and interesting goods, along with delicacies from everywhere brought by immigrants and Senators. He had fought on the mainland for two years; his "overseas deployment" allowance alone had accumulated to over two or three hundred yuan. This money naturally couldn't be touched—it was meant for marriage and establishing a career. So when the bank came to promote during their rest period in Guangzhou, he had purchased Central Reserve Bank bonds.

Having invested the bulk in bonds, he still had several dozen yuan left for pocket money. This was more than enough for him to enjoy himself comfortably. Tan Shuangxi thought: coming back wasn't easy; he might as well go to the most prosperous Bairen Market and have a proper good time.

Decision made, his steps grew lighter.

Bairen Market served as the transportation hub for all of Lingao. Both roads and urban rail radiated outward from it as their center. Tan Shuangxi boarded the urban rail and arrived at Bairen City before nightfall.

In the twilight, Bairen Market glittered. Gas lamps had been lit one by one. The even rarer "electric lights" were also gradually spreading among merchants. Previously, for reasons of safety and cost, gas lamps had been used mostly for public lighting. Except for a few large department stores, nighttime illumination relied entirely on kerosene lamps. This had somewhat inhibited nighttime commercial activity, with many shops closing after dark.

The spread of electric lights dramatically changed this situation. Most shops now extended their business hours. Although neon lights had not yet spread widely due to immature chemical materials and inert gas production, shop owners had long taken to covering the bare bulbs with lanterns of various materials and colors. Under the night sky, the electric glow made the shops along the entire commercial street shine brilliantly.

These days, with the northward forces undergoing large-scale rest and reorganization, soldiers on leave flooded in by the drove. The market flourished more than ever. The streets teemed with Fubo Army naval and land officers and enlisted men, some drunk, others laden with packages. Correspondingly, Military Police with their chain badges had also increased in number.

The moment Tan Shuangxi stepped off the train, Military Police questioned him. After checking his documents, they asked tirelessly what he was here for. Tan Shuangxi knew better than to joke with these fellows who would be discharged before the other retirees; he answered honestly that he was here to "consume."

Out of the station, he followed the bustling crowd toward Bairen Market's main road.

Bairen City and East Gate Market outside it were now merged into one. The once heavily guarded Bairen City—where only Senators and a select few naturalized citizens could enter—now retained only a portion in its original state, serving as premises for certain agencies and residences for some Senators. The rest had been demolished. In terms of municipal management, Bairen City no longer held special status. It had become specific numbered "neighborhoods" of Bairen Market, rather than the old "Green Zone" that had seemed like another country entirely.

Naturally, these "neighborhoods" remained heavily guarded. But for ordinary people, the old Bairen Town had become legend.

Tan Shuangxi didn't know the ins and outs of all this. To him, Bairen Market was "New York" in the minds of soldiers like himself—a glittering world. Though it lay very close to Maniao Fort, during his many years of service, he had come here fewer than ten times. He just remembered that each visit, the place looked vastly different from before.

The first time he came was back when the Fubo Army was still called the Lingao County Security Regiment. Tan Shuangxi had been a soldier for less than two months when he was dispatched to East Gate Market to "reinforce security." At the time, the whole county had fallen into panic, rumors spreading that the Imperial Court was about to come exterminate the Senate. Terror gripped people everywhere, and public security incidents erupted frequently in the streets.

Tan Shuangxi had been no exception to that fear. Though he had answered the call to enlist, his motive had nothing to do with defending the Senate—he had joined purely for the military pay and rations.

Chen Kefa had put it well. Before the Senate came, men like them couldn't find anywhere to risk their lives even if they wanted to. After the Senate arrived, at least there was a place where one could risk one's life for food and warmth. Tan Shuangxi's village lay close to Maniao. He had witnessed firsthand the good days the salt farm enjoyed after attaching itself to the Australians. His trust in the Senate naturally ran deeper than that of recruits from other villages.

On that first visit to Bairen City, East Gate Market was desolate. Over eighty percent of the shops had shuttered. Some had even stripped away their equipment and signs, leaving only empty storefronts. The shops that remained open were mostly Australian properties. Soldiers had been sent to patrol the streets and maintain order. Tan Shuangxi still remembered the long queue snaking before Delong Rice Shop—people pressed together, clutching stacks of grain circulation vouchers, their eyes wide with fear as they craned their necks toward the shop door. Every time someone emerged with a bulging grain bag or pushed out a cart heaped with grain, the queue would collectively exhale in relief. Then came another round of fearful, tense waiting for the next number to be called.

Such scenes could be seen before nearly every shop still open. People retrieved the circulation vouchers they had recently hidden beneath pillows or tucked around their waistbands, panic-buying everything they could lay hands on. Copper coins that had vanished now reappeared in the marketplace.

Tan Shuangxi and his fellows received their military pay not in circulation vouchers but in gleaming silver. This somewhat steadied their nerves—even if the Senate lost, the silver in hand wouldn't become waste paper. But there were still people quietly warning them: "Hurry up, drop your guns, shed your uniforms, and run! Don't sell your lives for the Baldies; the Imperial Army is about to arrive!"

Such words did frighten some. The second day at Bairen City, three men from his platoon deserted. Just two days later, all three were caught.

The consequence of deserting in the face of battle had been made clear when combat discipline was explained during enlistment. As expected, these three were hanged at the crossroads that very day.

He still remembered the whole company lining up at the main crossroads of East Gate Market, watching these three unlucky souls struggle and die to the sound of military drums. The weather was overcast; the faces of civilians and soldiers alike were heavy with gloom. Even the Senators, whom they had thought omnipotent, wore a rare somber look...

Two of the three executed deserters had been refugees with no family or friends in Lingao. Long forgotten, Tan Shuangxi couldn't even recall their names. One had been a salt burner from Salt Farm Village. He remembered that before the Mainland Campaign, while preparing to deploy to the mainland, he had accompanied the conscription personnel to Salt Farm Village. At the village office, he had heard someone mention that name.

Now, this crossroads still stood. The eerie gallows had disappeared. The original Delong Grain Shop had been rebuilt and was now the location of Delong Bank's Lingao Branch. Those shops that had once kept their shutters tightly closed had almost all changed beyond recognition in the renovations of recent years.

The second time he came to East Gate Market was not long after the first—following the great victory at Chengmai. Tan Shuangxi, as a member of the participating forces, arrived full of pride to join the victory parade. The formation had also passed along this main street, heading for the stadium—just like this time. Civilians gathered along the roadsides, their cheers roaring like mountain torrents and crashing seas. The troops wore torn, soot-stained uniforms; the common folk also looked impoverished. The shops along the street were still shabby and desolate. But hearts were jubilant. Tan Shuangxi, who had originally joined as just "a soldier for pay" and prepared to "run if things go south," now felt a different thought stirring within him: The world has changed! The Senate is going to rule!

After that, visits to East Gate Market seemed to increase. He came here two or three times a year now, especially during leave. He would bring his parents and brothers here to "enjoy Australian fare" and "see Australian sights," then treat them to several meals of various new dishes his parents had never tasted in their lives—"Kaifeng Chicken," "Korean Cuisine," "Hot Pot"... He would use the money he'd saved to buy fabric and daily necessities for everyone. Though his parents always scolded him for "wasting money," he knew they liked it.

Yes, who doesn't like good food? Who doesn't like dressing neatly and warmly? Who doesn't like those lovely and useful daily goods?

Being able to let his parents and family enjoy these things made him feel his service was worthwhile. To him, East Gate Market was not just a bustling street—it was the embodiment of a life rising ever higher.

He and his family had struggled out of the mire and lifted their heads.

(End of Chapter)